


Seeing Red

by backtoblack101



Series: 107 One Armed Push Ups [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtoblack101/pseuds/backtoblack101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the events of "Pullin' Punches". Angie decides to paint Peggy's nails for her and Peggy becomes increasingly self-conscious of her feelings towards her friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Red

By the time they had disposed of their unconscious would be attackers in the alley behind the automat (“You sure we can’t call the cops Peg?” “The last think I need is to have to try and explain to some pig headed officer how I was capable of knocking these three out.”) Angie’s nerves and adrenaline seemed to have dissipated into something much more akin to exhaustion, and by the time they’d managed to clean up the diner and shut it up for the night Peggy had to all but carry her friend to the car.

(Of course it didn’t even cross her mind how warm Angie felt pressed up against her side; it wouldn’t be appropriate given her friend’s current state of fatigue.)

The drive back to their new penthouse was silent and Peggy simply presumed Angie to have dozed off until they pulled into the drive the waitress pushed open the passenger door and lifted herself from the vehicle, much to Peggy’s annoyance.

“You should have let me get that,” Peggy scolded, having already been half ways around the bonnet of the car.

“S’okay English.” Angie waved off her friend’s concern. “I’m feelin’ a lot better now.”

(Still, she didn’t complain when Peggy put a soft hand on the small of her back and guided her through the front door.)

“Okay,” Peggy hummed once they were safely inside. “Straight to bed with you, I think you’ve experienced – “

Angie’s unladylike bark of laughter killed the end of Peggy’s sentence. “English, if you think I’m goin’ to bed before I’ve had a drink you’ve got another thing comin’.” With that Angie marched on to the kitchen, not waiting for Peggy to pick her jaw up off the floor and argue back.

Instead Peggy merely sighed and gave up, toeing off her shoes and hanging up her jacket before following Angie into the kitchen, finding half a bottle of scotch already on the counter and her housemate reaching up to pull two crystal glasses out of the press.

(She hardly even noticed the way the pinafore of Angie’s uniform rode up the backs of her legs as she stood on the tips of her toes.)

“Okay English.” Angie turned with a smile already set on her face. “We’re gonna have ourselves a girls night now, so you go get the bottle of that nice red nail-polish you ruined savin’ my life and I’ll bring these drinks into the other room.”

“You really should be going to bed…” Peggy knew it was a wasted statement, yet it wouldn’t be right if she didn’t at least try.

“Hey English, remind me again what I just said about the whole going to bed thing?” Angie was teasing her, and Peggy couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

“That you needed to have a drink first…” She felt like she was in school again, relaying back information just given to her by a teacher.

(The only difference being her teachers had always instilled fear in Peggy’s heart with their harsh words and threats of beatings; Angie instilled an entirely different feeling).

“Mhm,” Angie hummed. “An’ I figure while I’m havin’ that drink I may as well re-do that polish you so selflessly chipped in my defence.”

-.-.-.-

Peggy had always enjoyed painting her nails. Something about the brush gliding across her nail and leaving a clear, colourful streak in its place soothed her. During the war it was the only thing she could do to stop herself going mad sometimes; sit down in her office, pull a bottle of polish out from under some files in her drawer and spend just a few minutes reclaiming her femininity, reclaiming her sanity.

She’d never had anyone paint them for her though, not until now. She quite liked that as well.

(Or perhaps it was just the way Angie’s fingers held her own so delicately and how her breath tickled her ever so softly as it blew on the wet polish.)

“Y’know,” Angie began, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them ever since she’d put down her drink to make a start on Peggy’s nails. “When we were kids me ‘nd my sisters used to paint one another’s nails like this all the time.” Peggy smiled, not at the story, but at the way Angie spoke when she was concentrating; slower and calmer than her usual rapid fire sentences. “You should’a seen what my lil sister Lorna could do if she had a tooth pick or somethin’.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, she’d dip it in different colour polishes and draw on our nails, flowers an’ stars and all sorts. Ma thought she should be an artist.” Angie held up Peggy’s finished hand in the light to examine it. “I ain’t got talent like that though, simple paint job’s about all I’m good for.”

“Well luckily for you a simple paint job is all I require,” Peggy replied whilst drawing her hand away from Angie’s scrutinizing gaze to examine for herself. “And it’s perfect, thank you Angie.”

“Least I could do for ya English,” Angie shrugged, picking her scotch glass up and cradling it in her hands again now that her work was done.

Peggy just smiled and for a while they fell silent, allowing the scotch to take effect and letting the hazy warmth envelope them as they sat on the small couch; Angie curled up in one corner with her legs stretched out just far enough for her toes to tickle Peggy’s thighs, and the agent sat with her legs stretched out to the footrest in front of her. Even when Angie reached out for the scotch bottle and Peggy knew she should protest the silence remained, with Peggy instead simply holding out her glass and allowing Angie to top her up.

“Hey Peg?” Peggy lifted her head when Angie finally had enough of the quiet. “I want you to teach me how to do that some time y’know?”

Peggy smiled. “I know. I figured you would.”

“You’re not gonna jump into a spiel ‘bout how I shouldn’t be learnin’ that kinda thing?” Not that Angie wasn’t thrilled she was going to be taught to defend herself, she just expected to have to fight more for the privilege.

Peggy took a long gulp of her drink; then sighed. “When I first met you I didn’t want us to become friends, because I didn’t want to have to worry about keeping you safe,” she admitted quietly, her eyes slowly coming up to meet Angie’s. “But then of course we became friends anyway and I thought to myself that if I kept you completely in the dark as to what it is I do then there would be a very good chance I wouldn’t lose you.” She felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes and cursed he scotch for lowering her emotional barriers so effectively. “But I’ve always found the world has a funny way of reminding me that I can be an optimistic idiot if I don’t keep myself in check, so tonight I could have very well lost you over something that had nothing to do with me at all, and now I realise I can’t protect you… not fully, and not by myself.”

“Hey now,” Angie scolded softly, setting her drink down on the floor then crawling across the couch to wrap her arms around Peggy’s shoulders. “Don’t go tearin’ up on me English. Can’t have you showin’ weakness just when I start to think you’re some kinda hero.”

Peggy laughed at this, the sound choked out around the lump in her throat. “Well I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid hard liquor has always had this effect on me.”

(She didn’t bother adding that losing people she loved, or at least the thought of it, also often did this to her.)

“Huh, it’s always made me knock stuff over,” Angie teased, smiling contently when her quip earned her another laugh. “So,” she added after a moment, her fingers running soothing lines through Peggy’s hair, undoing her pins as they went. “Y’wanna teach me what you know or what?”

“I do believe I’ve left myself without much of a choice in the matter.” The alcohol in her system (and Angie’s hand in her hair) only exaggerated her newly heightened fear of losing her friend. “We start first thing tomorrow…” she glanced down at the scotch in her hand. “Or depending on how much more of this we drink, whenever were not feeling quite so delicate.”


End file.
